The Therapist(59)

‘Yes, that’s right. He arrived on Friday evening and didn’t go out all weekend. Mark offered to take him golfing on Saturday with him and Ben but he had work to do and spent the day in his bedroom.’

‘Great. Thanks, Ginny. Let’s have lunch again soon.’

‘Call me when you know what day.’

‘I will.’

I cut the call, feeling bad for not believing Leo when he said he hadn’t come to the house. I take the key from my pocket, the one I sneaked from his wallet, and drop it into a little earthen pot that stands on my desk. I’m not going to use it, I can’t. I’m not that sort of person.





Twenty-Nine


I’m running up the stairs. I need to open the filing cabinet but I can hear someone moving silently through the rooms downstairs. I reach the study, take the key from my pocket, my fingers fumbling as I insert it into the lock. It won’t turn, there’s something wrong. I take the key out, try again. I need to be quick, he’s checking the rooms, looking for me. The key still won’t work. I jiggle it and it turns. I pull open the drawers carefully, my breath coming in short gasps, aware of soft footsteps on the stairs. The first three are full of client files. I tug the bottom one open; it seems empty but I crouch down and reach into the shadows at the back of the drawer. It’s there, the metal cash box is there.

The footsteps are coming along the landing now. I close my hand around the box, lift it out, place it on the floor. The door of the guest room creaks as he pushes it open and checks inside. I don’t dare breathe as I insert the tiny key in the lock. I need to hurry, he’s almost here. I unlock the box; the door behind me pushes open slowly and I crouch lower, hiding myself. I lift the lid and a scream of pure terror unfurls from deep inside me. But before I can give voice to it, a hand clamps down on my mouth, silencing my scream before it’s even begun.

I start awake, my breath coming in ragged gasps, residual damage from the dream I just had. I reach out a trembling hand and switch on the lamp, remembering that as I tossed and turned in the throes of my nightmare, I was aware, on another level of my subconscious, of Nina watching me. I had wanted to call out, ask her to save me from what was to come. But I hadn’t been able to.

I throw back the covers and get shakily out of bed. I’m no longer sure I can do this, stay in the house by myself. The temptation to phone Leo, and ask him to come home is so strong that I take my mobile through to the kitchen with me. I’m in desperate need of a drink, something soothing, so I pour milk into a mug and find the chocolate powder. The comforting hum of the microwave soothes me and I try and recall what the metal cash box of my nightmare had held. But it’s as elusive as the face of the man who stifled my scream.

I manage not to phone Leo but it’s five o’clock before I feel ready to go back to bed. Although I sleep late, I’m uneasy for the rest of the day, rattled by my nightmare. The discovery of more of my hair in the kitchen, and in the bathroom, depresses me further. I’m still losing it steadily.

There’s a ring on the doorbell. I go to answer it and find Eve, on her way for her morning run.

‘I wanted to thank you for Saturday evening,’ she says. ‘Will and I really enjoyed it.’

‘I enjoyed it too,’ I say, smiling as she hops from one foot to another on the doorstep, already in warm-up mode. ‘It was lovely to meet Connor and Tim properly. Do you want to come in?’

‘No, thanks, I need my run.’ There’s a pause. ‘I’m not being nosy or anything, but it’s hard not to see things here. Is Leo back?’

‘No, he came to pick up some files.’

‘How is he?’

I pull a face. ‘Managing to guilt-trip me by feeling hard done by.’

‘That’s not fair. He should have been upfront with you about the house in the first place.’

‘I know. But if he had, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have met you, I wouldn’t have met any of you. Don’t you think it’s amazing, the way fate works?’

She stops moving and looks at me curiously. ‘Do you think it’s your destiny to be here?’

‘Yes. I’m a great believer that fate takes you where you’re meant to be.’

‘For a purpose, you mean?’

‘Yes, although I’m not sure what that purpose is.’

‘You’re not trying to find the truth behind Nina’s murder, then?’ Behind the question, her eyes are innocent.

‘But if everyone believes that Oliver killed her, surely there’s no truth to be found?’ I say, puzzled.

‘Except you don’t really believe that Oliver is guilty.’ Neither does Tamsin, I want to say, but as I wasn’t meant to have overheard their conversation, I can’t. ‘That’s what I don’t understand, Alice. Why do you think he didn’t do it? It’s not as if you knew him.’

‘You’re right, I only know what everyone here has told me about him and that’s what I find hard to reconcile; the picture you’ve painted of him and the violence of the crime. But I’m not trying to solve any mysteries. First of all, it’s not my place and secondly, if everyone is happy that Oliver killed Nina, there isn’t anything to solve anyway.’

We’re interrupted by Will coming out of the house.